


Everyday

by jackie spades (ahabsyndrome)



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Gen, also jokester is there because reasons, but this isnt arkhamverse unless you just wanna read it that way, i stole arkham knights ghost brain joker, theres like a mild body horror part as well just a heads up, this isnt even batjokes really like it was intended to be but then this happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 11:19:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9721997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahabsyndrome/pseuds/jackie%20spades
Summary: Bruce suffers and spends time with a new friend, Joker's dead but somehow still a hideous thorn in my side, water is wet





	

**Author's Note:**

> this has nothing to do with that song by buddy holly that sounds like a dude jerkin it but its definitely a recommended listen like if you havent heard it in a while please take a moment to refresh your brain thank you also happy valentines day

He turns up like this most often on full moons, sitting at the edge of a building with his feet dangling over one of the city’s many dark recesses, humming or murmuring incoherently to himself. It isn’t until Bruce starts to approach that he turns his head to grin at him. Not that Bruce spares him a glance. He doesn’t sit, but remains standing a few feet away, sweeping his gaze over the cityscape.

The voice that pipes up is as vivid as his colors. It’s disheartening.

“Hey Batso. How’s things?”

Bruce keeps his attention fixed outward. He hasn’t dignified him with a response so far, and he doesn’t plan to at any time soon. 

“Of course.” Joker sighs heavily, drawing out the sound much longer than necessary. There’s only a single moment of silence when he finishes and fills his lungs again. “Y’know! I feel like we never really talk anymore! All this one-sided conversation is making things a little awkward.” He faces forward again, returning his attention to what he’d been fixated on before. “People are going to start thinking I’m a little bit cuckoo if you never talk back to me. Heheh!”

Behind him, the clang of shoes on metal. Someone’s climbing up the fire escape. Bruce steps away from the edge and turns around, already putting some distance between himself and Joker.

A head of wild, wind-blown purple hair peeks up over the edge, and a second later, a striking red grin to match. “I get that the parkour is fun and all, but there’s nothing wrong with hanging out on the ground! Just a reminder.” 

“Did you find anything?”

The newcomer slumps his shoulders and puts on an exaggerated frown. “I tried my very best. But hey! I do have an idea!” He perks up again, clapping his hands together and baring his teeth in a smile that manages to unnerve without holding an ounce of malice. “What say we put up a craigslist ad, right? We write down something like, ‘Hey! In the market for some priceless jewelry! Or not really priceless, because I’d like to put a price on it. A very hefty price. Something like a couple hundred thousand dollars’ worth, but maybe not exactly. Just something  _ like  _ that.’ How’s that sound?”

While he’s speaking, Joker gets to his feet and meanders over, hands behind his back, looking his counterpart over appraisingly. It’s surreal to see them side by side like this. An image set beside its inversion. Both of them seem to glow in the light, the same gaunt face on the same odd, angular body wrapped in a lively array of color that doesn’t make it any less difficult to make certain which of them is supposed to be dead.

“We’ll track down their fence and wait until they surface again to turn a profit on the jewels.” Bruce states, not quite but kind of ignoring the Jokester’s suggestion. He doesn’t seem terribly offended by it, merely nodding his head in agreement. 

Joker, meanwhile, rests an elbow on Jokester’s shoulder and leans on him, arching a brow incredulously. “I still can’t believe this. I mean, what a poser! And you just hang out with this guy? You must  _ really  _ be missing me.”

He yelps when Jokester steps away from him, promptly dropping onto the ground. Bruce watches him walk past, over towards the edge of the building where Joker had been seated previously. “So, are we calling it a night? It should be about time.” He pulls up his sleeve to check his watch, “Let’s see, little hand on the three, big hand on the…” He seems to be counting on his fingers for a second, but he turns back around and comes up with an accurate enough answer: “Ten till four?”

“You should go digital.”

The laugh is the same. It’s exactly the same, and it still jars him everytime he hears it. “I guess I should, but I’m a little attached to this thing! Maybe I’ll look for another when I get home, though.”

“That’s an excellent idea, Jackie ol’ pal.” Joker replies, having since gotten back to his feet and strolled after his doppleganger. He gives him a pat on the shoulder, which goes more or less unnoticed. “You were gonna finish that contraption of yours tonight, right Bruce? And it’s a good thing, too. Three’s a crowd, if you ask me.”

“Soon. Let’s get back.”

Jokester beams again, stopping by Bruce on his way back towards the fire escape. “I’ll race ya down!” He says, giving him a playful punch on the shoulder before breaking into a run. The clanging noises he makes on the way down the fire escape are grating to the ears. He needs to get home soon.

Bruce simply drops down onto the street, his outstretched cape slowing his fall on the way to the ground and allowing him a graceful landing on his feet. Joker is waiting for him on the sidewalk, leaning against a lamp post. The light flickers every few seconds. “I really am glad we’re on the same page about this. The guy’s gotta go! You don’t deserve him anyways, not really. Just another loved one for you to get killed with your gross negligence-” 

His eyes roll back in his head suddenly, making a distressed gagging noise, though more theatrical than anything, as his skin starts to turn from white to a sickly gray. His being seems to shrivel into a form that should not still be able to stand on its own, eyes melting out of their sockets, flesh falling off of him in chunks until he’s simply a skeleton in a suit, bits of gore and rotting flesh still hanging from the bones. Bruce retches, quickly turning around when he can bear to tear his gaze away.

“I know it was a long time ago, and it's a little unfair of me to be bringing it up again, but really! I’m just looking out for this guy’s wellbeing here. Us clowns’ve got to stick together.” He breaks into a fit of giggles behind Bruce while he clasps a hand over his mouth, trying to will the scent of death away before he can breathe again.

“Gasp! You beat me!” 

He finds the button to call the Batmobile in record time. His throat is holding his words hostage, but luckily an awkward lack of responses in most attempts at conversation is a part of his reputation that’s already been communicated thoroughly to his guest. 

“You should let me play with some of your toys sometime. Might be fun to draw up a carnivalized version of some of ‘em, give Owlsie a taste of his own medicine when I get back.” When Jackie doesn’t get a reply, he merely shrugs, letting out a huff. “Fiiine, don’t share. Was just a suggestion.”

The drive back isn’t much better. Silent, save for Jokesters tapping on the window with his fingernails as he watches the buildings and landmarks rush by. Bruce wonders briefly how much of it is familiar. Once he tunes out the noise, though, it’s easy to quarantine at least some of the unwanted thoughts off to a different section of his mind. To be addressed at a time that is not right now.

“Hey Batman!”

Bruce gives himself some credit for not jumping. It was close. So much for that moment of peace. “Yes?”

A brief glance to his right, Jokester is turned away from the window now, staring at him, eyebrows furrowed a bit. “You’ve got a real case of the frownies, and I’m wonderin’ if that’s a regular deal or if, uh.” He threads his fingers through his hair, lips pursed for a moment in hesitation. “If something’s going on, or,”  _ If I’ve got something to do with it? _

Several moments pass before he can answer. Joker is in the backseat now, with his flesh reattached to his body good as new again, sprawled out with his feet propped up on one of the doors. Bruce avoids the rear view mirror like the plague. “Not sure what you mean.”

“You know what I mean! Or you should, I mean.” Jokester laughs once. A weak, quiet ‘heh’ between thoughts, “I’ve been here a week, and you’ve just been. I dunno, you have this constant look about you like you’re in the middle of your daughter’s obnoxiously long beauty pageant and you’re holding a screaming baby, and it’s only gotten worse since I’ve been here. Your folks seem pretty worried, too, so.” He holds out his twitching hands, palms up in front of him, as if grasping for words. “You spend all your time in your cave working, I haven’t seen you eat or drink anything besides, like, coffee. If I didn’t know better I’d say you don’t sleep at all. I mean, nobody can live like this everyday, right?”

Bruce’s hands tense around the steering wheel when that abrupt cackle from behind him grates against every nerve in his body. “No.”


End file.
